Like Revan
by Auros Sopherai
Summary: Bastila is on a mission to get some classified info for Revan. She enlists the help of a few old friends and finds that somethings aren't how the appear to be.


**LIKE REVAN**

AN: Well, technically it is the 24th so I just, just missed the deadline. Aw hell, the ending came to me right as I was writing it. I think it's pretty entertaining, I hope nobody hates me for it. I dropped it (conspicuously) a few little references, enjoy those ;). I aimed to get a feel for each of the characters, within reason, but expanding a little...In the course of that I may have left a few frayed edges and dangling storylines...It's unbeta-ed/unedited so it's probably rough, but pure. ENJOY! Auros

* * *

Bastila moved about the office like it was her own. She casually thumbed through his appointments, being careful so that if Carth were to enter she wouldn't look like she was snooping around. There wasn't anything interesting to see.

She turned and watched the Coruscanti traffic pass bisect the evening horizon. She sighed, even in this time of purpose, in this time when she busily working for what she believed in, she couldn't help but shake a lingering feeling of malaise. She knew the root was her long separation from Revan, and she tried to console herself with rationalizations. _I am after all working with him. He sends regular holomail…But it's not the same_.

She had tried for a time to give up on him, but she had given up on that too. _How regularly defeated I am!_ She sulked.

Back at Carth's handsome desk, Bastila proceeded to inspect Carth's family photos. A younger Carth smiled radiantly back in one where he stood alongside his young wife, and their newborn son Dustil. A newer photo showed a reconciled father and son standing beside one another, the Admiral's expression was one of bittersweet love.

The door on the other end of the office swished open and Admiral Onasi stepped in. He was wearing the same bittersweet expression that he had had in the picture. "Bastila, how have you been?" he asked, barely interested.

"You don't look to happy to see me," she observed, as he walked to his desk.

"Huh?" he blurted, half-listening. "To tell the truth Bastila, every time that I see you, you're bringing horrible news."

"No news this time," she said, recalling her past visits.

"That's good," he said, reclining in his desk chair. "Have a seat. Will you take something to drink?"

Normally, she would have said 'no'. "Give me a glass of whatever you've got," she said, impetuously.

Carth looked slightly taken aback, but poured two glasses of potent liquor nonetheless.

"How have you been?" Bastila asked, downing some of the drink.

Carth sighed deeply. "It's been a madhouse around here," he said frankly. "But I know you didn't come here to ask me about my work. So, if you don't mind, let's get down to business."

"Right. I've come because Revan needs some information."

Shifting in his seat, his interest piqued, the Admiral leaned slightly over the desk. "_What kind of information_?"He asked in a whisper.

"Information from the Secret Archives of the Republic Intelligence Organization," she responded in kind. "He needs to see files pertaining to Republic Intelligence prior to the Mandalorian Wars. Communiqués between Mandalorian forces and…well…perhaps the Sith."

"You said it yourself, you need to speak with someone in Republic Intelligence," Carth advised. "That's outside my jurisdiction, but I can give you—" Carth had taken out his pen and was about to write down the location and contact information of RI, but Bastila had leaned over and taken his hand.

"_I've already been to RI," _she said desperately. _"They say that all requests for files have been postponed indefinitely. Part of last year's Intelligence Act. There's no way I'll be able to get them to Revan in time._"

Carth hit a button on his desk to block any electronic monitoring. "Polticians!" he barked. "I'm sorry Bastila, but there's really not much I can do to help…"

"Carth please, I don't know just how, but this information is crucial to the defeating this Sith."

Carth got up from his chair and Bastila stood up too. The Admiral took her face in his hands. "There's _nothing _I can do," he said with a wink. Bastila took the hint. "I wish I could help you. I wish that I could help you get into the Secret Archives. But I can't help you find someone who will show you how to break in."

Bastila's eyes lit up. "Break in!"

"I would never refer you to a Rodia named Mar Tebrit. I would never tell you to stage a blackout inside."

Bastila frantically noted the name 'Mar Tebrit', and with a smile to Carth said, "Well, I'm so sad that you couldn't help us."

"My pleasure."

**THAT EVENING**

"I don't like this one bit," Bastila fretted, the ambient music from the clubs along this street breaking her concentration. "I did _not_ join the Jedi so that I could steal from the Republic."

"You didn't seem to have much trouble doing it when we were stopping Malak," Mission Vao said.

Bastila turned to the fully grown blue twi'lek. "I keep forgetting that you were with us."

"Big surprise, you hardly acknowledged that I existed while we were together," Mission commented. "Still, why then and not now."

"I don't know," Bastila said distantly. "Perhaps it was because of Revan."

"Could you guys can the reminiscing for another day," Atton Rand broke in. "Remember, we _are_ meeting someone."

"You're right," Bastila admitted, her face drawn and hopeless. She had chosen the two best scoundrels she could find. She had kept ties with Mission who was now working a desk job on Coruscant, and she'd recently met Atton when he'd, following his admission to the Jedi Order. She trusted both, but doubted whether they would be able to achieve their purpose.

The newly acquainted Atton and Mission exchanged uneasy looks. And the three went back to looking for their contact.

This was one of Coruscant's liveliest, and most criminal, districts. "It figures, that someone with the know-how to help us break into…you-know-where, would hang out in this part of town," Atton commented.

Mission nodded her approval, scanning back and forth past the casinos, clubs and bars that lined the main drag. The denizens of this part spared no expense in their extravagant attire. It was certainly a sight to behold. They waited and watched for several minutes.

"How much did you pay this guy?" Atton asked.

"Enough," Bastila answered. "Okay, a lot." Then…

"I wonder if it snows on Tatooine?" said the high-pitched voice of a Rodian man, in dirty overalls.

"I don't know," Mission said.

Bastila looked slightly peeved. "What she means to say is, 'I'm not sure but I hear that it gets cold at night.'"

"Haha! Magic words," the Rodian said. "Name's Mar Tebrit. And you—"he said to Atton, "must be Bastila Shan."

Clearing her throat, Bastila said, "Uhm, actually I'm her."

"Ah well, you humans, I can never tell one from the other."

"_And this is the guy who's going to get us into the Secret Archives_!" Mission whispered to Atton.

"Probably no good to speak on da street," the Rodian said, his head swiveling back and forth. "I got a place nearby."

**LATER THAT EVENING**

"You weren't kidding when you said you had 'a place'," Atton said, marveling at the vast array of security cracking device which lined the walls of Mar's small studio apartment.

"Littl' a dis little a dat," he remarked cavalierly, while looking for just the right devices to issue Bastila.

"Wait, a second," Mission noted. "There ain't no way that this place slipped under the Police's radar. I mean, there not he smartest bunch, but come on!"

Bastila nodded her head in agreement, while examining what looked like screwdriver with a blue light on one end.

"Oh, oh, oh, be very careful wit dat one Master Jedi," Mar said, snatching the device from her hand, and ignoring Mission's questions. "Sonic screwdriver, _very _rare."

Bastila looked the Rodian square in the face. "Mission, made a perfectly valid point," she said, sternly. "How were you able to avoid detection by the galaxy's numerous law enforcement agencies with this impressive cache of illegal gadgets?"

Mar Tebrit's alien face contorted for a few moments as he deciphered Bastila's somewhat elevated diction. "Don' worry about it. You don' tink I work for da common good? Dis job pays quite well, and as long as da right people get deir share, nobody asks any questions."

"Ah, I should've guessed," Atton said.

"I suppose, I shouldn't be surprised," Bastila commented, looking mildly appalled. "The poor moral state of the police only reflects the wider corruption in this galaxy."

"Look who's talkin', if you'll excuse me Master Jedi, but you're da one tryin' to break into RI headquarters," Mar Tebrit correctly observed.

"You're right," she acknowledged. "It's what we must do to survive."

"Alright, detour aside, let's get back to business," Atton chimed in.

"Right, what are we going to need to do to get in, get what we need, and get out," Mission said.

"Now you're talkin'," the Rodian said, turning on his heel to find proper tools. "Contrary to what you might be tinkin', RI headquarters is _not _the safest place on Coruscant. Dey rely on deir reputation a lot more dan people would tink."

"Still, they've got to have some protections?" Bastila inquired.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, pulling down what looked like a silver ball. "Don' you get to tinkin' dis is gonna be easy, because it won'. But it is _possible_, it's been done before."

"By whom?" Bastila asked.

"Ah, ah, ah, I never disclose the names of my clients."

"So be it, what's the plan?" Bastila asked. Mission and Atton had returned to examining Mar's exciting collection.

"Just so happens, I've tought of a fool-proof plan to get you in and out, with the data you're seeking…"

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

With Mar's clever plan carefully rehearsed, the three prospective spies approached their first target—the main entrance to Republic Intelligence Headquarters. "It's so bold, it just might work," Atton had earlier observed.

The front entrance was located on a large platform fixed high above Coruscant's teeming surface. Mission, Bastila, and Atton entered casually. Walking to the front desk, they noted the number of security guards in the lobby.

"_At least 20_," Mission whispered.

"_Remember what Mar said, it's all reputation_," Atton reminded. "_These guards are fixtures._"

They continued to the front desk where they were greeted gingerly by a young receptionist. "Back so soon Master Jedi," she said with a hint of displeasure. "Do you have another meeting with the Director?"

Bastila was aware that the receptionist knew more than she let on. The Director's schedule would not have been foreign to her. She was testing them. "No, in fact I do not," Bastila responded, honestly. RI agents were all—even 'receptionists'— trained to resist mind-control techniques, and in the art of telling when someone was lying.

"Oh, then how can I help you?" she twittered innocently.

"Well, you could start by showing your three newest intel agents to their desks," Bastila answered unflinchingly.

"Excuse me, come again?" the shocked receptionist said.

Atton chuckled, and Mission said, "What part did you need repeated? We're RI's new agents, and we're looking for our floor."

"That part I understood," the receptionist said, the guise of sweetness long-gone. "What I don't get is how two Jedi and a bratty Twi'lek received jobs at RI."

"You sayin' a Twi'lek ain't good enough to work here?!" Mission barked, visibly offended. Memories of speciesism on Taris hadn't faded.

Bastila placed a hand on her shoulder, and walked forward. "With all due respect, we don't have to explain ourselves to you at all. Now, go ahead and check your database if necessary, and call your superior if you feel you need to. Do whatever you have to, to feel comfortable that we are indeed employed. But be aware, that I will be writing a particularly unsympathetic letter to the Director, concerning your rude and unbecoming behavior."

The receptionist said, nothing but furiously pounded away on a commlink, while search her information database. After a few minutes, of hushed conversation with her supervisor and several 'I don't believe it's, the receptionist had no choice but to admit that Bastila, Atton, and Mission had been employed one week ago, and were scheduled for orientation today. She apologized, insincerely.

Rising from her chair, to lead them to their floor, she stilled seemed in a state of shock.

"It's understandable, your confusion," Bastila said diplomatically. "Me as the new Jedi-Intelligence Liaison and my two partners as new agents, is rather surprising. You're attitude is what is inexcusable."

As she and the three new staff entered the elevator, her attitude changed markedly, as the reality of their employment became clear. "You know, I really do owe you all a much greater apology," she said, her head hanging down. "My behavior back there was appalling, and I have no excuse. But if you could please excuse it…My head is already on the chopping block, for some other reasons, and I know that an angry letter from a high level agent would ruin my career…I don't have anything else."

Atton had to restrain himself from saying "pure pazaak" but sated his exclamatory desire with a priceless look at Mission.

The receptionist began to stifle back crying. "There, there dear," Bastila said. "It would be very un-Jedi-like and un-Liaison-like for me to get you sacked as my first act on the job. No, let's just keep this encounter _our _little secret. You don't tell anyone one about what happened, and we can forget that ever even took place."

The receptionist brought her head up, not a single tear, just some contrived looking reddish eyes. "You mean it!"

"No hard feelings," Mission said.

"Oh, well, this is your floor," she said, as the elevator stopped. "Just find the Deputy Director and he'll explain everything you need to know."

"Thank you," Bastila said cordially.

"Thank _you_ all for being so kind and forgiving," she said bowing.

"Any time, doll," Atton said, angling himself around her. "Hey, I didn't catch your comm-code. I might need to hit you up for some more info about this place…and maybe a cup of caf?"

"I don't think so," she saccharinely declined. The elevator door closed and she was gone in a flash.

"Damn!" Atton swore.

"Please Atton, not here not now," Bastila pleaded.

"Don't condescend to me, Bastila," Atton insisted. "I may not be an esteemed Jedi just yet, but I knew what I was doing back there and it wasn't getting a date." He brandished in his hand one of the tools given to them by Mar. It was used to lift information out of electronic devices. "I got our friend the receptionist's secure data. There might be something in there we wouldn't have access to."

"Nice," Mission complimented.

Even Bastila had to give him credit. _I definitely chose the right people for the job_.

The rest of the day passed unremarkably, as the Deputy Director of Intelligence showed them around their office and explained every procedure under the suns. They would be working as the Organization's newest task force, heavily involved with the Jedi. The day ended with their first assignment. They were to monitor intel collected from a terrorist group trying to stir up civil war on an already embattled Mid Rim planet, with the end goal to prevent the war. Bastila wouldn't feel guilty about doing day-to-day work in addition to searching for Revan's information.

Late that evening, they returned to the Jedi Temple where Bastila and Atton had been living, and where a room had been procured for Mission. This was the start of something big.

**ONE WEEK LATER**

Atton, Mission and Bastila had become regulars on their floor of Republic Intelligence HQ. They had all adjusted quite well to their front positions, but the thought of their primary mission was never far from their thoughts (nonetheless, safely guarded by neurosupressants).

Mission frequented the caffa room, and enjoyed the water-cooler chat, which contrary to expectations was filled with only the usual office gossip. All in all, it wasn't very different from her last job, with the exception of the secret agent aspect of it.

Bastila managed well to keep her some what argumentative side hidden as she built up relationships with the other agents. She worked hard to keep up with her assignment, while simultaneously keeping their secret task on schedule. Revan had said he need the information in four to six weeks, that gave them precious little time to track down the database with the necessary information and to retrieve it.

Atton was a favorite of the female agents on their floor, at least he thought so. He'd even taken to daily showering. That didn't mean that he wasn't working vigorously toward their goal. In fact, so far he had done the most in furtherance of their cause…

"What'cha doin'?" Mission asked, at the end of another long day.

"Just rereading some files from a Separatist holonet group," he responded, not drawing his eyes away from the screen.

"The whole 'dutiful worker' thing, is just not what I expected from you," she said.

He looked up. "I'm sorry, I'll try to waste more time and go back to 'the fool'," he jabbed, only mildly offended. "Listen, I know what you're saying. But, when something's gotta be done, I'll do it."

"So what are you reading then," Mission said, craning her head to read the report.

"Good news, it looks like the terrorists are loosing support," he read, his finger scanning a line of text. "Eh, there's only so long you can blow up innocent people in the streets before the masses turn against you…I hope."

Mission looked away from the screen, and turned her attention to a holophoto sitting on Atton's desk. In it, a little boy with a gap between his teeth smiled broadly, he was flanked on both sides by similarly happy parents at what looked like a waterfall. She lifted the picture up. "Who's this?"

"Put that down!" Atton ordered.

"Why?" Mission wondered.

He leaned in close to her ear. "_Because that thing is the blocking device Mar gave us. I hid it in the picture frame. It's the only thing stopping them from seeing all the files I'm seeing. But it doesn't work long range, so put it down._"

"Alright, no need to get touchy about it," she smirked, setting the frame down. "Well…you never answered my question: who's in the picture?"

"Huh? Oh, that's just…me and my parents…long time ago," he said, avoiding the subject.

"You were a cute little guy then, weren't'cha!" she remarked.

"And not now? Come on Mission you're killing me!" His attempt to playfully turn the subject wasn't going to work.

"But seriously, where are they now?" she dogged on. "You never mention them."

"That's cause their dead," he grumbled. "That was taken just a few weeks before…You know how it was, the war."

"Yeah," she said reflectively. "I lost my parents, too. All I ever had growing up was Griff and Zaalbar."

"Fine, then maybe you understand why I don't wanna spill my guts right here…" he said only to be cut off by a beeping sound from his screen. Pressing a few buttons, and huddling close to the screen the two knew that they had struck gold.

In bold, flashing letters, the screen in front of them read 'FILES LOCATED'.

**LATER THAT EVENING**

Retrospectively, it may not have been the best excuse for the newest team in Republic Intelligence to stay behind extra. But the crisis was coming to a head on the planet they had been monitoring, and it now looked like the tide was turning against the terrorists. Bastila informed the Deputy Director that they would be staying late to make sure that only positive propaganda streamed it.

She neglected to mention that the process was entirely automated and that the three staying was overkill in the strongest sense.

But Bastila had been filled with a new sense of vigor as the excitement of the chase had grown. She stepped out of her small office at a corner of the large floor. She had just checked on the automated propaganda dissemination process.

Mission and Atton were assembling all the gear necessary for their operation. A pile of gadgets lay spread out on Atton's desk.

Bastila slid on a invisibility belt; its fit was tight. "Ah," she cried. "These things were not designed for Jedi. Couldn't they have created some kind of Invisibility Cloak!?"

"Okay, enough wishful thinking," Mission directed. "Atton, do you have everything online to make sure that we aren't detected?"

"Yeah, all security sensors have been decommissioned," Atton explained.

"Won't that set something off?" Bastila inquired.

"NO!" Atton shouted, urgency filling his voice. "It's too complex to explain right here and now, but just know that things are fine. But we've only got thirty minutes."

"What? Why?" Mission demanded.

"Because, RI has a another layer of security, if any system is disabled for longer than half an hour, it triggers an alarm."

"Let's get going then." Bastila activated her cloaking device. The other two followed suit and within moments they were descending rapidly in one of RI's many service elevators.

The elevator stopped cold at floor -53. A thousand feet below surface level. The elevator doors opened, the sound metal on metal mitigated only slightly by an over zealous application of grease. They deactivated their invisibility devices, there were no sensors in here.

"Behold," Atton marveled, stepping out onto a platform. "The Republic's Secret Archives!"

It was a marvelous sight: a massive open room in just below them, filled with thousands of databases, each filled—randomly—with just about all the information in the Galaxy.

"You could put the history of just about every event ever in here," Bastila said.

"Yeah, and think there's about seventy more floors just like this," Mission added.

"When you're done taking in the scenery…" Atton said, descending the staircase. He carried a datapad in his hands with a layout of the floor. Following the directions of through the labyrinthine room proved to be more difficult than it looked. But they continued along, lit only by the eerie green light of the databases.

Things moved smoothly, until Bastila stopped in her tracks. Mission and Atton turned around. "What's going on?" Mission asked.

Bastila only breathed in silence, her eyes wide and aware. "I thought I felt a fluctuation in the Force," she said grimly.

"Maybe it was something from above… or outside?" Atton offered, hoping to get them moving again.

"Yes, probably."

On they continued, until at last they had reached the tall indistinguishable database that they had been seeking. Mission opened a panel in the front and Atton gave her one of the information acquisition computers provided them by Mar Tebrit. She gave the file name that she needed and the device scanned through the databases files. Atton watched closely as the machine sorted through millions of files. Meanwhile, Bastila kept watch.

"What are you looking for?" Atton asked, walking over to Bastila.

"Nothing, I just, I," she stuttered.

"Atton!" Mission said. "Atton, come over here you're gonna wanna look at this!"

He ran over and looked at the screen of the device Mar had given them. His jaw dropped, a chill ran down his spine, his skin popped up in goosebumps…The computer read in the same bold letters that had indicated their discovery of the necessary files: 'I DON'T THINK SO'.

Atton and Mission turned around.

"I don't think you'll find what you're looking for in there," a familiar voice said from the darkness.

"You," Bastila said, with a tear in her voice.

Just beyond the three of them, Admiral Carth Onasi, friend of Revan and the Jedi, stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Bastila, it was me," Carth said softly, his pale skin distinctly more evil looking in the database's green light.

Atton and Mission stood silently behind the two of them.

"Why Carth? Why?" she asked, emotion soaking her voice, and tears filling her eyes. "You betrayed me why?"

"I'll tell you why, Bastila," he said, with some anger. "I wish it hadn't come to this. I wish I hadn't needed to do this…But ever since the beginning—and maybe I've just begun to see it in it's proper light—you and Revan, and all you Jedi, you fight to save the Galaxy, yes, but in the end you're no better than the one's were fighting. You lock yourselves away in your Temple and shroud yourselves from the rest of us. And now one questions what you do, how many worlds you let die…

"Think of the billions you have callously tossed away to burn! For once think of them! But you don't: that's all that talk about 'serenity' and 'peace' and 'harmony'. It must take a lifetime to learn to shut out those voices."

"But Carth," she began weakly, bruised by his cruel and uncharacteristic words. "We were always trying to stop that. We were fighting to save lives, as many as we could."

"That's what I thought too," Carth continued. "I believed those lies for a long time, and maybe you still genuinely do. But I know the truth."

"You sound like a Sith!"Mission shouted.

"Sith, Jedi, don't you see, Mission," he sliced at Bastila's heart. "There one in the same, these Force Cults all want control. They just use different language to describe it."

"How'd'you do it?" Atton demanded, his voice filled with rage.

"RI was onto you before you even came to me Bastila," he said, answering the question but ignoring the questioner. "The moment you asked about that information, they knew that they would have you in their hair. An RI agent visited me just a day before you did. He told me everything, and showed me secret information they've collected over the years about the Jedi and your secrets.

"I never thought I'd believe it…But I _had_ to. They told me that you would probably come to see me. They gave me the name of one of the Coruscant's biggest intelligence dealers: Mar Tebrit. It's amazing what a little pay off will do. In return for that, and being allowed to continue his trade, Tebrit gave you tools that were soaked with RI monitoring programs. Everything you thought you were hiding from them, you sent right into their hands."

Several more figures stepped out of the shadows. "Atton," the sinister voice of the receptionist said. "Compliments on swiping that secure info from my datacard. Smooth. If I wasn't a fully trained RI agent, I might have missed it. But as it were, you got a nice tracking file so that we could keep track of whatever you said or did."

Atton didn't know what to say, he felt like hanging his head in shame, either that or attacking the horrible wench. He noticed that among her were the Deputy Director and Director of the Organization along with several guards.

"We've been on you this whole time," she sneered. "Did you think it was just quaint coincidence that you were able to get jobs here and get access to secret info. And did you think I was really surprised? Oh, we have played you like dejarik pieces."

"Carth!" Bastila exclaimed, hoping to seize the good still in him. "Revan _needs _that information. Whatever it says! You can still turn back, you can still do the right thing and help him."

"No Bastila," he stated, firmly. "I'm done helping one half-crazed, amnesiac Jedi. It's time that I do what's really right and serve the Republic…Serve the people you let die." His voice dropped down to a whisper so faint, "_like_" and then fainter still. It trailed off for the RI officials, and for Mission, and even for Atton. But Bastila heard something, though she had to strain with every fiber of the Force that she could summon, to hear it. A barely audible whisper in the Force, the words, "_Revan. Like Revan_."

Carth turned his back on them and the RI agents seized the group of them and placed them into Force restraining helmets. No one resisted as they were dragged back into the elevator to be taken to a dark prison in the bowels of this massive building; the hope of a public trail, an absolute folly.

But Bastila couldn't wrap her mind around it. It didn't make sense. "_Like Revan_." What? What was she missing? And then she thought of the context of his words and chastised herself for being so dull. "Serve the people you let die. _Like Revan_."

A smile brighter than the two suns of Tatooine spread out on her lips. For, Bastila and Carth both knew that she had not let Revan die, she had saved him.


End file.
